I take a step towards Phillus, who now holds his hands up to his face in a defensive guard. He’s a few inches shorter than me, and a few inches wider too. I watch as he rubs his face, smearing sweat and dirt across his chubby cheeks. His legs are shaking slightly. They look scarily similar to the legs of the chickens I’d seen on Kyolholmen, Chrystheria’s neighbouring island.

I push my right foot into the ground and use the momentum created to swing my leg forward, bringing my shin crashing down into the side of Phillus’ left thigh. I plant that foot once more and throw a straight right hand into his face, spraying tiny flecks of blood into the sand beneath our feet. He grunts and pushes his fringe off his eyes. He has dirty blonde hair that hangs in tangles by his shoulders, and it almost always seems to be drenched in sweat. Today is no different. Staring at Phillus, I almost want to comfort him.

I choose to kick him silly instead.

As he holds his nose with his left hand, I bring my right leg up towards my chest. Then I extend at the knee and thrust the ball of my foot into Phillus's chest. He stumbles backwards upon impact, but he manages to stay standing. The crowd lets out a small cheer. Good, I think.

“Nice recovery,” I say, nodding. “That one sent you flying on your arse last year, so you must be getting better.”

He frowns, but the corner of his mouth tugs upward, and I can see that he appreciates the comment—even if it was a little patronising. I smile, before looking him up and down again. I can’t help but notice that, while his build still somewhat resembles a bag of milk, he’s definitely lost a few pounds in the twelve weeks between last year’s league ending and this new one commencing. Kudos. He must have trained hard over the break. Then again, I am repeatedly smacking him about right now, so there has to be something said for my approach, too.

I sidestep as Phillus charges at me, trying to tackle me at my waist. I pivot and land a jab to his temple for good measure, knocking him off balance. “You’re being too predictable, Phil. You can do better than that, ‘cro!” I say encouragingly.

“Don’t patronise me, Alex,” he says, touching his forehead. “If you’re gonna fight, fight!” Just a touch of frustration seems to boil from within him now. He tries to kick my left calf with his right leg. I doubt his conditioning is better than mine, so I confidently swing my leg outward and upward. I’m proved right as his shin crashes into mine, and he retreats with a whimper. Grimacing, I place my foot back on the floor.

I raise both my eyebrows at him in response and let out a sigh. I know I should stay focused, but my mind wanders once again. This time, I’m sitting with my friends Kai and Crystal. We’re laughing. The dark sea of stars stretches far into the unknown above us. It’s mesmerising—beautiful, even. I can almost feel the nighttime breeze as I reminisce.

Then I snap my eyes open to see a set of fat fingers making their way towards my face, in the shape of a fist.

Phillus's right hook lands evenly on my jaw, sending a shudder through my skull that makes my teeth vibrate. There’s a thudding sound as it connects. The crowd falls silent for a moment. Then I hear a laugh, and then another, before cheers start erupting for Phillus this time.

I shake my head and hop out of my opponent’s reach. Ouch. That one actually hurt. I flush at the switching momentum of the crowd. I’m absolutely not going out like this.

You’re stronger, my ego whispers.

Time to flip the script.

 “That was cheap, Phil. Good, but cheap,” I say, reaching upward and pushing my fringe back through the rest of my hair. I take a step to my left.

“You know I like you, right,” I say, resting one hand on my knee and raising the other towards him. “So, I’m sorry for whatever happens next,” I say, smirking at him from under my eyebrows. I run the same hand across my forehead before streaking it down the edges of my cheekbones and off my jaw.

Then I stand tall and assume a Fighter’s stance, with balled fists held out in front of me.

“You know the drill. Let’s fucking do this, cro.”

I see Phillus grit his teeth, and I smile in anticipation.

 

Bait. Trap. Morph. Swing. Knockout.

 

I formulate the combination in my head and visualise every moment. Then I pause.

 

I think this one would work better topless.

 

It’s my ego talking again.

I hesitate. Then I shrug and grip the ends of my blue belt and pull it loose, tossing it to the side. I tug the sides of my Fighters gi, shrugging as it slides down my shoulders to reveal my upper body. I turn slightly, looking left, then right, bathing in the atmosphere. The noise in the room filters into a slightly higher pitch suddenly, and my confidence skyrockets.

Show them you’re the strongest.

Power pumps through me. I can feel the eyes of different audience members burning into the blue depths of my own, but I don’t bother checking for the individuals. There’s only one person that I desperately wish is watching. Closely. The image of her silky black hair flowing down her tasteful figure as she walks away from me burns into my vision. I blink it away.

Focus, Alex.

I force a smile. Looking down at my outstretched arms, I twist them slightly. The colourful veins that weave their way down my arm ripple over the muscle beneath them. Phillus looks at me, cocking his head to the side and blinking slowly.

“Seriously?” he asks, seeming mildly irritated. Ignoring him, I flex. The rigid outline that carves into my abdominals sharpens. Ribbed obliques craft a stairway up to my pectoral shelf, which I tense.

Listen, some things in life can only be achieved through undeniable hard work. If you put in the hard work, why wouldn’t you show it off? That’s how I see it, anyway. Phillus might not see it the same way right now, but that seems like a ‘him problem’ from where I stand.

Following this chain of thought, I do something which is, even by my own standards, pretty diabolical.

I stare at Phillus. Slowly, I raise my right arm towards him. I rotate my wrist so that my clenched fist is facing the ceiling, before extending my index and middle fingers at him.

I pause there.

Then I contract them twice, quickly. Try me, my aura dares, and his eyes widen. He looks at me, then at the surroundings enveloping us, as if seeing them for the first time.